


Royalty

by Nightwood



Category: Nightwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwood/pseuds/Nightwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some tragic romances, social stature breaks two lovers apart. This is one of those stories.<br/>But when misfortune strikes, Prince William discovers that he is not as separate from his love as he thought.</p><p>
  <em>... Wellëm felt a panic beginning to rise up under his suave demeanor as the servant turned to leave. He couldn't lose Daniel. He didn't want to be alone again. "I love you." He shot the words desperately out into the moonlit room as Daniel reached the woven reed door. The words that followed pierced his heart worse than the window had hurt his head...</em>
</p><p>Setting: Ancient Desert Kingdom</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wedding

The sun shone at its usual tropical scorch over the desert and the lush, expansive oasis city blemishing the barren terrain's surface. The humidity of last night's rain toyed with the blazing beacon of light, warping its rays into a rainbow off towards the sandy mountains to the east. Brightly colored birds sang with gusto, each one captured in the midst of springtime desires. Prospective mates called back or returned gestures, creating intricate skydances above the heads of those present.  
  
The small crowd of elite guests in the garden wore muted colors so that the bride and groom could shine all the more brightly for their grand occasion. The two held each other's hands, appearing as one entity through their matching garments of red on white; she in a dress with low-hanging sleeves and he in a loose-fitting cotton shirt and pants with the silky thin red ceremonial robe hanging open on his sturdy slender frame. Their hair was pulled back from their faces; hers in a jet black braided bun, and his in the only simple, stubby ponytail that his shorter burgundy hair would allow. Despite the efforts taken to leave their faces uncovered for each other's viewing pleasure, their eyes were in all the wrong places. Her hazel gaze seemed to be weighted down onto the ground- she had not the courage to look up at her handsome prince. His piercing green gaze continuously drifted over her shoulder, quietly calling to the man a few meters behind her.  
  
 _Look at me_ , he inwardly screamed for the fourth time since the beginning of the ceremony. _How long until you acknowledge me?_  
  
Prince Wellëm noted the sudden silence surrounding him as the holy man next to him finished speaking. It was his turn now, but he could not speak. His hesitation jarred the smooth rhythm of the ceremony, lifting curious gazes to his face as his lips parted and yet uttered no words. Wellëm watched the brief interruption in the flow catch the servant's attention as well. Finally, for the first time that day, Daniel turned to look at Wellëm's face. A rush of mixed emotions fell over Wellëm. Relief, upon seeing the familiar, unique mismatch of Daniel's blue and amber eyes. Happiness, to have fully viewed the way his favorite servant looked in his ceremonial garments with his long dark hair braided so carefully into a single rope down his strong back. But sorrow pervaded through him as well. There was no mistaking the subtle clenching in Daniel's jaw, nor the single wet trail that traced down his cheek. And for a moment, silent words were exchanged that spoke of desperation, guilt and pain. And then the servant's gaze was gone again and Wellëm was once again alone.  
  
He looked out to the waiting crowd, noting the looks of confusion on a few faces. "Forgive me," he murmured with a small chuckle as he forced a good-natured smile over his face. "I am, admittedly, a little nervous." He looked back to the girl before him, silently regathering his thoughts so that he could save face before the chance left him. "Your beauty would quiet the courage of even the strongest lion, my lady." Their eyes met as he lifted her hand to his lips, earning the desired "awwww" from the females in the audience. Perhaps he had deviated from the ceremony's guidelines, but no one seemed to mind. If anything, it had helped his image even more.  
  
And so, two were married and two were torn apart that morning. Wellëm took his wife through the motions of the celebration, dancing all through the feast when he could not bring himself to eat and entertaining all through the night when he could not bring himself to retire with his wife.  
  
"Patience is a virtue, father," he replied good-naturedly when the King became pushy in his hints regarding grandchildren. "Let me entertain my guests."  
  
Finally, when the musicians' fingers ached, when the guests could drink no more, when the bride became too tired to speak, Wellëm excused the lot of them and went alone to his own bed. Surely, no one could expect him to approach her chamber now, under these circumstances.  
  
He only wished that trick could work more than once.

The sun shone at its usual tropical scorch over the desert and the lush, expansive oasis city blemishing the barren terrain's surface. The humidity of last night's rain toyed with the blazing beacon of light, warping its rays into a rainbow off towards the sandy mountains to the east. Brightly colored birds sang with gusto, each one captured in the midst of springtime desires. Prospective mates called back or returned gestures, creating intricate skydances above the heads of those present.

 

The small crowd of elite guests in the garden wore muted colors so that the bride and groom could shine all the more brightly for their grand occasion. The two held each other's hands, appearing as one entity through their matching garments of red on white; she in a dress with low-hanging sleeves and he in a loose-fitting cotton shirt and pants with the silky thin red ceremonial robe hanging open on his sturdy slender frame. Their hair was pulled back from their faces; hers in a jet black braided bun, and his in the only simple, stubby ponytail that his shorter burgundy hair would allow. Despite the efforts taken to leave their faces uncovered for each other's viewing pleasure, their eyes were in all the wrong places. Her hazel gaze seemed to be weighted down onto the ground- she had not the courage to look up at her handsome prince. His piercing green gaze continuously drifted over her shoulder, quietly calling to the man a few meters behind her.

 

/Look at me,/ he inwardly screamed for the fourth time since the beginning of the ceremony. /How long until you acknowledge me?/

 

Prince Wellëm noted the sudden silence surrounding him as the holy man next to him finished speaking. It was his turn now, but he could not speak. His hesitation jarred the smooth rhythm of the ceremony, lifting curious gazes to his face as his lips parted and yet uttered no words. Wellëm watched the brief interruption in the flow catch the servant's attention as well. Finally, for the first time that day, Daniel turned to look at Wellëm's face. A rush of mixed emotions fell over Wellëm. Relief, upon seeing the familiar, unique mismatch of Daniel's blue and amber eyes. Happiness, to have fully viewed the way his favorite servant looked in his ceremonial garments with his long dark hair braided so carefully into a single rope down his strong back. But sorrow pervaded through him as well. There was no mistaking the subtle clenching in Daniel's jaw, nor the single wet trail that traced down his cheek. And for a moment, silent words were exchanged that spoke of desperation, guilt and pain. And then the servant's gaze was gone again and Wellëm was once again alone.

 

He looked out to the waiting crowd, noting the looks of confusion on a few faces. "Forgive me," he murmured with a small chuckle as he forced a good-natured smile over his face. "I am, admittedly, a little nervous." He looked back to the girl before him, silently regathering his thoughts so that he could save face before the chance left him. "Your beauty would quiet the courage of even the strongest lion, my lady." Their eyes met as he lifted her hand to his lips, earning the desired "awwww" from the females in the audience. Perhaps he had deviated from the ceremony's guidelines, but no one seemed to mind. If anything, it had helped his image even more.

 

And so, two were married and two were torn apart that morning. Wellëm took his wife through the motions of the celebration, dancing all through the feast when he could not bring himself to eat and entertaining all through the night when he could not bring himself to retire with his wife.

 

"Patience is a virtue, father," he replied good-naturedly when the King became pushy in his hints regarding grandchildren. "Let me entertain my guests."

 

Finally, when the musicians' fingers ached, when the guests could drink no more, when the bride became too tired to speak, Wellëm excused the lot of them and went alone to his own bed. Surely, no one could expect him to approach her chamber now, under these circumstances.

 

He only wished that trick could work more than once.


	2. Hung Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William doesn't want his marriage to change his way of life.

The window creaked as it opened, slicing through Wellëm's pounding head with an unexpected malice. "You're drunk," it seemed to shriek, "you don't deserve my silence this night." With a soft groan the prince rolled over, letting his arm drape over the side of the bed as he cracked open an eye and looked towards the offending noise. The window gave one last creak and then fell silent as the figure put up the prop to keep it open. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief from the heavy heat gathering over the bed and Wellëm let himself relax into the refreshing temperature change.  
  
The figure shuffled about the room, stooping occasionally to pick up another article of clothing and drape it over their arm. As they swept by the bed Wellëm reached out, catching a long rope-like object in his slender fingers and earning a hushed yelp from the servant.  
  
"Daniel," Wellëm mumbled with a sleepy smile. "I knew it was you. The wind brought your scent to me while you were opening the window."  
  
Daniel grasped at his hair with a frown, bending over slightly to lessen the pull on his braid. "I do not smell that strongly," he replied softly, his voice guarded and almost cold.  
  
"Yes you do. You carry the scent of the forest with you." Wellëm chuckled and left it at that, loosening his grip so that he could run his hand over the braid. "I like this. It looks good on you. Will you wear it more often?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, I order you to wear it more often. Am I clear?"  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
Silence followed, with Daniel focusing his gaze on the ground while Wellëm groggily slid his eyes over Daniel's stature. Then, with unexpected swiftness, Wellëm's hand shot out and wrapped around Daniel's wrist, catching the servant by surprise and pulling him forward. As Daniel's hands braced against the mattress to stop his fall, Wellëm propped himself up on an elbow to meet him halfway in a kiss.  
  
It felt good to be close to Daniel again. He let out a longing breath as his tongue scraped over Daniel's mouth, picking up that familiar taste and letting it relax his body. He felt safe around Daniel. Contrary to the servant, Wellëm was pale and delicate, merely pretty to look at. Granted, he was lithe and agile, but Daniel was strong. His skin was tanned and the palms of his hands were calloused where continuous hard work had taken its toll. A life of demanding labor made him ruggedly handsome in ways that made Wellëm envious, on occasion. Wellëm's fingers found Daniel's sinewy arm as his lips worked needily, trailing away from Daniel's mouth to his jaw. But almost as soon as he'd pulled Daniel in, the man was gone again. Wellëm opened his eyes as Daniel's body lifted off of the bed and away from him.  
  
"You're married," Daniel voiced as he smoothed out his ebony hair with a guarded frown.  
  
"Not by choice," Wellëm countered.  
  
"The King's will is your will."  
  
"You know that's not true." Wellëm felt a panic beginning to rise up under his suave demeanor as the servant turned to leave. He couldn't lose Daniel. He didn't want to be alone again. "I love you." He shot the words desperately out into the moonlit room as Daniel reached the woven reed door. The words that followed pierced his heart worse than the window had hurt his head:  
  
"You're drunk."  
  
And then he was gone.


	3. Grown Up Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances surrounding the royal family have forced the prince to grow up too quickly.

Two months had begun to age Wellëm far too quickly. Not outwardly, mind you. Heavens, no. But inwardly- mentally- he was not the same prat that would drag out a party to avoid his wife. His work gave him reason enough to avoid her anyway. Blast that damned work! It was enough to make him feel like an old wearied man in a youth's body. But it was his duty; his responsibility.  
  
After all, it was the only right thing to do in the wake of his father's failing health.  
  
No one could figure out where the illness had come from or where it would go next. It would fluctuate, seizing the King in great bouts of vomiting and seizures, and then leave him when you least expected it. He could hardly hold down his food anymore. He barely ever touched his wine- a somber sign indeed.  
  
And so Wellëm was burdened with the literal weight of the entire kingdom. Occasionally he took breaks to go lock himself in his chambers. Tonight would be one of those nights. He had excused the advisors early and wandered the halls for a time, half hoping to run into a certain ebony-haired servant by chance. Ha! Chance? Luck? He should know by now that such things were not for him.  
  
As Wellëm entered the room, he noted the scent of apple blossom that accented the air around him. Even more apparent than the smell was the young woman in the middle of the cavernous room, perched daintily on the edge of his bed. Wellëm regarded his wife with a stern expression. He did not have time or patience enough to play games with this girl. "Woman," he began curtly. "I am weary and you are blocking my way to the bed. Why are you here and who let you in?"  
  
The girl stood, her olive-hued hands clasped tightly in front of her as she glided forward a few steps and spoke. "I have awaited you in my chamber for two months now. You ignore my messages and you have yet to summon me." To make up for the breach in etiquette she was committing, she offered a low, respectful bow.  
  
A brief flash of disgust passed over Wellëm's face when the girl was not looking. At times it was hard not to blame this innocent for everything he had endured these past months. "I have been busy," he finally answered, taking his green gaze away from her as he swept past her bowing form.  
  
"My Prince." No answer. "...Wellëm!"  
  
Wellëm halted in his movements, tensing at the sound of his own name. Only one other than his parents had ever been allowed to utter that name so informally, and that One had deserted him. He turned with fists clenched to find the girl slowly proceeding towards him, her hands fidgeting abashedly with the long black braid over her shoulder. He hated that braid.  
  
"Do I... displease you? Am I lower than the girls in your harem?"  
  
Wellëm gave a confused frown followed by an unexpected guffaw. As if he'd ever had reason to make use of the harem! "I did not choose you, my lady," he said with amusement in his voice. "Why have the game when you missed the hunt?"  
  
"Will you force your wife to hunt in your stead?"  
  
Something about her tone of voice caught Wellëm off-guard. With an air of puzzlement he watched her approach with half-lidded eyes, her smile dangerous and seducing now. What had this woman done with his shy little wife? He watched her dress fall from her shoulders and to the ground.  
  
Good lord. Bewbs.  
  
...  
  
Wellëm gave a yawn and pulled the nearby body closer to himself, his eyes snapping open when his senses discovered a small, soft creature wrapped in his arms.   
  
D-Daniel? Oh...  
  
A cooling breeze told him the window had been propped open again, and his mind went straight to the only servant who was willing to deal with those increasingly stubborn hinges. With a gentle intake of breath he stared at the ceiling, pretending for himself that the apple blossom perfume really was the only scent he recognized in the room that night.


	4. One Thing After Another

Wellëm clutched the gold and silver goblet firmly in his hand, grasping it tighter as though the wine could somehow return the squeeze and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Sometimes- when he was drunk- it did.  
  
At the moment he was simply trying to have a nice walk through the palace, but the acting ruler is a magnet for pestering askers.  
  
"Sire, your wife's back pains have returned."  
  
"I've already given your master permission to give her the remedies she needs. Why is it so hard for the doctor to care for a pregnant woman? For five months, he does nothing but pester me with messengers."  
  
Another servant flitted into view. "My lord, your father--"  
  
"I know, I'm walking there now. Whatever he has to say, he can say it in person."  
  
An advisor stepped in to interject his concerns. "Sire, you would be a fool to allow the neighboring nations access to--"  
  
"ENOUGH!" The wine glass hit the wall and clattered to the ground noisily. "I haven't the patience for you this day. Leave me be that I may walk to my father's chambers in peace!" He waited for the buzzing crowd of gnat-like nuisances to disperse before he resumed walking.  
  
As he pushed open the door to the King's chambers, the scent of spices stung his nose and made him grimace. "Father?" What was that cooky old doctor making his poor dad drink now? He stopped when he caught sight of the bed. Why was there a sheet over the form on the bed? Why was the doctor sprinkling herbs on the sheet?  
  
The doctor looked up towards Wellëm's voice, his face falling at the sight of the Prince. "I sent a servant after you. I take it she found you? My King, I'm so sorry..."  
  
Wellëm spun on his heel and walked right  back out of the room, suddenly nauseous. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't think straight. Where to go? Was there any wine left in his room? His eyesight was beginning to blur. Were those tears?  
  
WHAP. Wellëm hit a wall and fell back on his rear. As he was checking his nose the wall reached out, offering a hand as it spoke. "Walking works best when both eyes are open," it voiced gently.  
  
Wellëm recognized that voice. He hated that voice. "Servants work best when their mouths remain shut," he snarled as he swatted Daniel's hand away with distaste and stood up on his own. The back handed slap to Daniel's face that followed was rather unexpected, but satisfactory to Prince Wellëm.  
  
"Filth," he snapped as Daniel rubbed sullenly at his cheek. "You turn up now and all you have for me is a slice of sarcasm?" Daniel remained silent, choosing to keep his gaze on the wall than make eye contact with the wrathful prince. _Great Gods, it's like wedding day all over again,_ Wellëm inwardly growled. Just like the wedding, he dove for something unexpected to catch Daniel's attention. "My father is dead."  
  
Daniel's bi-colored gaze flicked to Wellëm, shock evident in his eyes. "He was doing so well not long ago."  
  
"And now he is gone."  
  
"Are you... okay?"  
  
Wellëm made a noise of disgust and turned away. "You haven't the right to ask such questions any more," he muttered. Wellëm felt a hand lock around his wrist and drag him back towards the Daniel, whose expression had suddenly darkened.  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"Says I. After the wedding night, you abandoned me. I've been alone ever since, Daniel. I have a wife, I had my father, but I did not have _you_. And now you do not matter anymore."  
  
Daniel's grip on Wellëm's slender wrist momentarily tightened as a wave of anger rushed over him. "You think I was not there for you just because you did not see my face," he uttered, his voice low and angry. "I remember the wedding night. I remember what you wanted. You did not want support. You wanted a concubine."  
  
Daniel's free hand shot out to catch Wellëm's other wrist in mid-flight, saving Daniel's face from another smack. "You think I was not there. Alright, Wellëm. Tell me this: How did you end up in your own bed every time you passed out drunk in your office? Hm? How did your paperwork get done when the advisors stopped offering their aid? Do you know? Because I do. How did you get back to sleep at night when the insomnia was at its worst? Maybe that mysterious stringed-instrument music just magically appeared, right? Certainly that music couldn't have come from the ONE OF ONLY DAMNED SETAR PLAYERS LIVING IN THE PALACE. Gods, Wellëm! For all your intelligence, you are so dense!" Out of grim pity, Daniel finally let the prince pull free when Wellëm let out a panicked sob. "...Or maybe your selfishness has blinded you." He could see it all on the prince's angular face like a book. These revelations had hit his brain like a freight train. He seemed rather stunned. Almost delirious. And now that he understood, he sought refuge in the support that had always been there those past seven months.  
  
"I-I can't take much more of this, Daniel," Wellëm stammered through short breaths as he leaned back against the opposite wall. "My advisors are corrupt, my wife suffers under her pregnancy, the kingdom is constantly under threat and on top of that...! My... my fa--"  
  
Daniel strode forward as Wellëm's knees buckled under the weight of his stress. He caught the shaking young man and pulled him close, holding his weight easily as he murmured soft reassurances in Wellëm's ear.  
  
Wellëm shook his head. "No! I-It's too late now. Last night... I had a s-seizure. Daniel, Father's illness has taken me!"


	5. Treason

In dark corners behind locked doors, Wellëm's advisors grumbled quietly. Young King Wellëm had fallen ill and yet he would not step down. Though three months of hardship had left him bedridden, the work still got done and the kingdom still ran as it always had. They knew why. That cursed servant. He had turned up only a day after the late king's death, easing Wellëm's fall away from health in remarkable ways that the doctor could not have replicated.  
  
Wellëm had given Daniel the royal seal. The king's work fell on a lowly servant. Every afternoon Daniel spread the papers out on the table in Wellëm's room and discussed them, informing Wellëm of which papers would receive the seal and accepting Wellëm's dissent whenever it arose. The advisors were dismissed and a new doctor was brought in to supply Wellëm with remedies for the symptoms. At night when Wellëm cried in the depths of his misery, Daniel sat cross-legged at the end of the bed and plucked away at his lute-like _setar_ until the music lulled Wellëm to sleep. The illness was always worse when Wellëm tried to eat, so he no longer attended mealtime. Daniel watched his king slowly waste away from the natural delicacy of his lithe form to the frightening frailty of one who approached the open, expectant gates of Death's dark kingdom.  
  
Today was no exception to the rough downhill slide of Wellëm's health. He vomited when he first woke and then found himself too tired to stay awake while Daniel started on paperwork a few minutes later. When the servant finished he woke Wellëm and asked him if he would try to eat.  
  
"Finished already?" Wellëm's weary green eyes slid back closed and he gave a soft smile. "I sometimes wonder if I should be so free with you using my seal. You could be plotting against me right now and it would be all my fault." He gave a chuckle. "Well, I don't care anymore." Wellëm cracked an eye open when he felt something close around his hand.  
  
Daniel's expression was sincere. "I remain loyal to you, my King."  
  
Wellëm's slender fingers gave Daniel's strong hand a squeeze, then suddenly tightened as his body convulsed without warning. Daniel watched with a sad expression on his face, waiting out the seizure and reaching for Wellëm when he came to.  
  
"D-Daniel...!"  
  
"Here I am, my lord." Daniel smoothed out Wellëm's bedsheets and pulled thin strands of burgundy hair away from his face, never releasing Wellëm's hand. "You should drink some water. Where is your cup?"  
  
"Taken down to be washed. Will you go get it?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Down in the kitchen the cook was his usual cheerful self. Daniel walked in on the man giving an experimental taste as one of his assistants offered the cook a spoonful of a steaming, porridge-like substance. Funny, but Daniel could not recall an instance where he did _not_ find the man with a spoon at his lips upon Daniel's entrance. One would expect the man to have a hearty belly to match his appetite, but Daniel was well aware of the exercise regiment the cook put himself through, every night before curfew. This was one of those "chicken or the egg" instances. Which caused which? Did the cook's routine arouse his appetite or did his food consumption incite the routine? If only the jovial man could somehow lend a portion of that appetite to the ailing young king!  
  
The cook, as always, jabbered cheerfully in the wake of Daniel's apparent aura of ever-abiding patience. "Oh, King Wellëm's goblet? Why yes, I think they just finished it a moment ago. You know I was there when they made that goblet. It used to be quite a controversial _blah blah blah blah_..."  
  
As he rattled on he disappeared from sight behind a shelf stacked with bags of spices, his voice fading out and then coming back when he walked back to Daniel. "...but I told him, them soup roots weren't proper. He didn't believe me. I guess you remember where that got him."  
  
Daniel's ebony braid shifted against his back as gave a nod of agreement, though he hadn't the slightest clue how the cook had transitioned to “soup roots” so quickly. "Thank you for washing it in such haste. The king is pleased with your diligence."  
  
The cook beamed, holding the gold embellished cup out for a moment before retracting it from Daniel's reach once more. "Oh! Almost forgot!" He pulled out a bottle and dripped some of its contents onto a cloth before rubbing the cloth over the inside of the cup. When Daniel gave a confused frown, the cook smiled. "This? It's medicine to ease the king's pains. Compliments of the Queen. Ain't she the sweetest? _Blah blah blah blah_..."  
  
Under the mist of words spewing from the cook's mouth Daniel gave another nod, though his expression grew troubled. "Indeed."  
  
Rather than returning to Wellëm's chambers, Daniel took the bottle to be inspected by the doctor.  
  
"Poison," the doctor declared with a frown.  
  
"Treason," Daniel snarled with malice.


	6. Confession

The queen lounged tiredly in bed, one hand on her bulging stomach while a servant finished pinning the pregnant woman's dark, wavy hair into a braided bun.  
  
"Not long now," the young midwife murmured. "The babe only has another month to go, unless it proves too eager to wait that long."  
  
The queen smiled, proud and regal despite the burden on her body. A commotion outside the door distracted her from her midwife and she turned her head, frowning with disapproval at the noise. A servant pushed inside bearing a familiar bottle and her heart leapt into her throat.  
  
"No one may approach me without a summons," she voiced firmly. "It is my king's wish and command."  
  
Daniel did not seem daunted by these words. "Truly? Is it also his wish to die? Did you follow that command as well?" He held out the bottle to give the woman a clear view of the object, though she hardly needed it.  
  
The queen regarded Daniel with regal distaste. Despite the obvious lack of makeup on her face and the undignified position Daniel's sudden appearance had put her in, she still succeeded in maintaining a display of pride and natural beauty as her thin eyebrows furrowed to express her calm displeasure. With a labored sigh she pressed her olive-skinned hands into the bed, lifting herself up to a better sitting position to address the intruder. "Why," she began in a gentle tone laced with annoyance, "have you taken my husband's medicine from the kitchen? Do you wish to see his health decline more quickly? I--"  
  
"Enough!" Daniel cut off the woman's words with a snarl. The room itself seemed to tense under the intensity of Daniel's malice. Where he lacked an intimidation factor via his social standing, he made up for it in pure physical demeanor. There was no ignoring the dangerous potential in the sinew under the cloth of his loose-fitting simple servant's uniform. Now, under the invisible pressure of this servant's rage and the unexplained silence from the guards which should have been outside the door, the queen and her entourage of female servants were inclined to listen. "No more games, woman. You are caught and your bluff changes nothing. Tell me who gave you this medicine."  
  
"I only answer to my King," the woman replied, turning from offense to defense.  
  
Daniel let out another growl and glared her down, snapping his calloused fingers impatiently when she did not relent. Four guards entered the room, bamboo armor in place, swords drawn and faces grim. The queen's eyebrows raised in surprise. This explained the absence of her own guards. "Will you answer to the sword?" the servant demanded threateningly. "Who. Gave you. The poison!"  
  
For a moment, the queen remained silent. Her calculating hazel eyes skimmed over the guards as she assessed her situation and made a decision. Finally, she spoke. "I brought it with me from my homeland under the orders of my father. I had no say in it."  
  
Daniel turned, tossing the bottle to a guard and pulling a scroll from his pocket. "Everyone has a say between morality and murder," he muttered, his voice laden with rage. With a snap, the scroll opened and he held it up to display the royal seal. "Take the servants to the dungeons. Lock this viper and her midwife in her room and guard it day and night. When the king is well, he will cast judgment on you and you will die."  
  
Despite his sense of morality and his heart for what is kind, Daniel could not help but secretly relish those last three words.


	7. Recovery

"I must thank you for finding that doctor," Wellëm called behind him as he dried off from his bath. "My growing recovery is short of miraculous."  
  
Daniel sent a generalized reply back towards the washroom as he made the king's bed and tidied up the room. He laid Wellëm's clothes out on a chair, glancing towards the washroom as the curtain over the doorway slid open. Wellëm was in a towel, his emaciated form looking quite small despite the aura of rekindled life that hung about him. Wellëm walked to the chair and Daniel turned away, busying himself with something else so that Wellëm could change. Wellëm's voice turned to a beseeching tone.  
  
"Look at me, Daniel."  
  
Daniel tensed and let out a sigh, slowly turning to rest his eyes on his king. "I see you, my lord." The towel was on the ground and Wellëm's hands were on his jutting hips.  
  
"It's only skin," the burgundy-haired man murmured. He was almost pouting now. How childish he could be! "You act like you haven't seen me naked before."  
  
Daniel's eyes slid from the ground to Wellëm's face, obediently following the king's request to be looked at. "Those were different circumstances," he replied softly, his expression calm and tolerant.  
  
Wellëm gave a huff. "Still, stop acting so... so..."  
  
"Respectful."  
  
"No, _distant_! It's only skin and I can parade around naked whenever I please! Stop making me feel like I need to hide myself whilst in my own quarters!"  
  
Daniel gave a low bow and Wellëm let out a frustrated growl, but he dressed himself and let the conversation end there. Upon Wellëm's request Daniel sat behind him on the bed and brushed out his hair, taking each stroke slowly and carefully so as to not yank on any hidden tangles. This was the closest thing Wellëm ever got to being touched by Daniel anymore and he relished the sensation while it still lasted.  
  
"Did the doctor ever find the name of the illness in me?" Wellëm's eyes closed as he spoke. He lifted his chin in response to the brush's touch, keeping his posture straight so that Daniel would not have to reach too far.  
  
"It was not an illness."  
  
"What then?"  
  
Daniel had put off this moment for a while now, but Wellëm seemed well enough to handle the truth. "...Poison."  
  
Wellëm's green eyes snapped open and a frown overtook his thin face. Daniel lifted the brush as Wellëm turned his head to look at the servant. "By who?"  
  
"By the queen, my lord."  
  
"WHAT."  
  
Daniel explained everything to Wellëm as the young king paced the room, fuming.  
  
"And my father?"  
  
"Also poisoned."  
  
Wellëm cursed, trembling as he turned away from Daniel. In the silence that followed, Daniel set down the brush and found a tie, approaching Wellëm from behind and gathering his hair together at the base of his neck.  
  
"...my king?"  
  
"A life for a life. That woman must be put to death."  
  
"My lord, I tried to tell you this morning but you bade me be silent. The queen is dead." Daniel waited for a reply as he finished with the hair tie, but Wellëm said nothing. "She went into labor last night and died under the strain."  
  
"And the babe?"  
  
"Alive. It's a boy."  
  
Wellëm was out of the room before Daniel could stop him. As he stormed down the hallway with his dagger in hand, he thought of Daniel's last words and growled to himself "...it's a _monstrosity_."


	8. The Baby

Daniel could not believe how light Wellëm was on his feet! By the time he reached the hallway, Wellëm was gone with no evidence of which corner he turned at. He searched for the man, calling desperately down hallways for a minute or two before resolving to cut Wellëm off at the queen's chambers and reason with him there. As he approached the room, his heart sank within his chest. The door was open and the midwife was outside, clearly distraught. She pleaded hysterically with Daniel as he passed, but he shrugged her off and strode inside. "Wellëm." He was not sure how prepared he was to fight his king, but he did not want to see an innocent babe die.  
  
The king turned towards the voice, the light of the morning sun casting rays over his back and covering the bundle in his arms in shadow. His expression was that of shock. "I... I don't understand," he breathed as he looked down into the little boy's face for the umpteenth time. "I don't-- I can't--"  
  
Daniel cautiously stepped forward to get a better view of the child. There was nothing unusual to behold in the child's face or figure, but Wellëm seemed to be utterly enthralled nevertheless.  
  
"It's a sign," Daniel suggested quickly, still worried about securing the baby's safety.  
  
"Indeed it is." Wellëm lifted his gaze from his son's face to look over at Daniel. "I... I cannot bring myself to hate him now that I hold him in my own arms. Daniel, look at him."  
  
"I see him, my lord."  
  
"He's _beautiful_."  
  
With that he left the room, allowing the sobbing midwife to take the bundle from his arms. "Find my son a wet nurse," he instructed as he turned and walked away. "I will raise this boy to be King."


	9. Full Circle

The sun shone as strongly as ever in the humidity of the palace gardens. Brightly colored birds sang with gusto, caught up in nature's springtime haze once more. Prospective mates called back or returned gestures, creating intricate skydances above the heads of the trio resting on the grass under the tall arch of the well-tended trees.  
  
Wellëm could not help but beam. He lay on his stomach, his elbows propping up his lean frame as he hovered over the baby boy squirming lazily in a loosely wrapped bundle. Wellëm lifted a finger with a chuckle, tracing the healthy curve of the olive-skinned babe's face and delighting in the way his son caught the finger and gripped it tightly. Daniel stood off to the side, a soft smile on his face. To him, Wellëm's happiness was a welcome beam of light after so many months of dark misery. He cocked an eyebrow at his king when Wellëm looked to him and gestured, inviting him closer.  
  
"Why do you stand? The grass is soft and cool in the shade. Come, Daniel." As Daniel stepped closer and settled down onto his knees, Wellëm sat up and gathered his son in his arms. "Look at him. Is he not handsome? Look at that chin. He will grow to be a strong man indeed!"  
  
Daniel let out a chuckle. "You are a proud father," he murmured with a smile. His arms automatically went out when Wellëm moved towards him, for the man had so eagerly urged Daniel to hold the boy so many times, that the reaction was automatic now. The babe let out a quiet protest and then settled down into the familiar, sturdy hold without further disturbance.  
  
It was then that the nurse approached, her gentle voice announcing the baby's nap time as she gave a respectful bow. It took a moment to untangle Daniel's long ebony hair from amongst the tiny fingers, but soon they were on their way. As Daniel watched the nurse turn a corner and walk out of sight, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder from behind, followed by a chin on top of that.  
  
Wellëm let out a contented sigh, his breath brushing past Daniel's neck as his green eyes hovered over the space where the woman had turned and carried his son out of sight. "This is how things were meant to be Daniel," he breathed happily.  
  
Daniel did not look down at the man leaning on his shoulder, though he relished the closeness. With each passing day, he found himself letting down his guarded propriety more and more. The man next to him was fading as a king in his eyes and returning to the Wellëm he once knew. "Yes," he voiced in reply, "I think you are right."  
  
"I am glad for your company," Wellëm continued. His forehead came to rest on Daniel's neck, but the servant did not move away. "You make my days so much brighter. Will you marry me?"  
  
Daniel let out a noise of surprise, his shoulders flinching slightly as he knelt there in the grass. Wellëm sat back, troubled by the confusing reaction. "Does this displease you?" One delicate hand went to Daniel's chin to try to turn the man's face towards him. "Look at me, Daniel."  
  
The servant turned his head, his bi-colored eyes shining with tears as he obeyed the king's order. His gaze moved from the ground to the shining golden band around the burgundy-topped head, taking in every detail before moving back to Wellëm's worried eyes.  
  
With difficulty, Daniel spoke in a shaky tone: "...I see you, my love!"   
  
It was then that it felt as though the floodgates of his heart had burst, moving his arms almost on their own as they wrapped around Wellëm's waist and pulled him in close. He felt Wellëm's hands cup his face, and for the first time in a year, they shared a lovers' kiss.

  
...In the palace of the King, no longer is the springtime happiness exclusive to the birds of the garden.


End file.
